The Power of Speech
by Ronandchicken
Summary: Harry is deeply upset at the loss of Sirius, and closes himself up, feeling that silence is indeed golden. Littered with my spelling mistakes... Oh well! Rated PG to be safe, although I think G is good enough.
1. Chapter the First

Disclaimer: Although I would most certainly enjoy it, I do not, in any way, own Harry Potter. Phooey.

The Power of Speech

By Ronandchicken

_As long as our hearts beat  
As long as the earth spins  
__As long as the sun burns  
__Let us remain together  
__Here forever  
__Never to be taken away..._

The words blew along with the wind, and only those who knew how to listen could hear them. If you cocked your ear just right, if you stood in the breeze and were silent long enough, you would hear. But you also had to want, to need, to long, to feel the strong connection, the immense _power _of love.  
  
~~~  
  
              Harry stood outside of Hogwarts. This was the first time he had not quite wanted to return. It held so many good memories... and just as many terrible. A breeze ruffled his cloak about him. He longed for Sirius to be back with him. It had been months since the man had died, but Harry still grieved for his godfather, was still plagued by nightmares reminding him of his foolish mistake: believing Voldemort, falling prey to Voldemort, and, as Dumbledore said, acting just as Voldemort expects those 'fools who love' to act. The words of the poem blew across the wind to him, sensing his feeling of loss, of confusion, with nowhere to turn. But through his tears, his quiet sobs, he did not hear them.  
  
~~~~  
  
               "Harry?" asked Hermione as he slowly walked into the Common Room. He took with him a sense of gloom, a sense of a rock, without emotion. It felt cold. Harry was closing his openings to the outside world.

He looked at her without speaking. He had written to Hermione and Ron, but when they saw each other, not uttered a word. Nothing. In class, he never practiced the spell, but when everyone had to do it for the professor, he always had it right.

"How are you?"

He stared, and then nodded. It was solemn, sober. He didn't shrug. That gave an impression of giving up to his feelings. He was stern with them. He would remain in control this year.

"Why won't you talk to us Harry?" she asked desperately, as she had so many times over the summer.

No reaction. He just stared at her, but with his eyes out of focus, as if he were seeing something other than her face. She watched him to see if she could read his emotions, but with no success.

"We know you're hurt on the inside, Harry. No point in hiding it."  
                His eyes snapped into focus and met hers. She started slightly. The expression in his eyes was most frightening. It was anger, grief, loss, shame, guilt, restlessness, and a score of other things all in one, but one emotion shining out among the rest: fear. He turned and ran up the boys' staircase, looking over his shoulder to give her a fleeting look.

He knew that people could tell. But talking to anyone roused the emotions, and he didn't want that. Not when he worked tirelessly through the night and day to push the feelings away. He couldn't be around people much anymore. He couldn't talk. Then he would think of what to say, and feelings would come back. He had to become emotionless. _If I never loved, I never would have cried_, he thought, after changing into his pajamas and rolling into bed._ I can't love anymore. He dozed into a fitful sleep.  
  
~~~  
  
              In his dream, he was sitting in Dudley's second bedroom at the Dursely's. It had taken him a few moments to realize he was crying into his hands. Sirius walked up to him from the window, as if a ghost were coming in on the breeze_.__

_Don_'_t _stop living became I am gone, _he said, putting an arm around Harry's shoulder. _James and Lily would not have wanted you to slop living for them, and I don_'__t _want you to stop feeling for me.__

'But if I bother to care' dream-Harry said, voice hoarse from remaining silent for so long, 'then I risk loss. If I bother to love, I lose. How can I feel again, when I am scared of feeling? Live again when scared of living?''

_Do not be afraid. We are always here._

_As long as our hearts beat  
As long as the earth spins  
As long as the sun burns  
Let us remain together  
__Here forever  
Never to be taken away..._

And with that, Sirius faded back into the wind.

'No!' dream-Harry cried, struggling out of bed and over to the window. 'Don't leave me again! Please! No! Don't go!' And he slowly woke up to find himself yelling those words aloud. A figure was standing in the dormitory door, watching, as though he didn't realize Harry was awake yet. It was still very early in the evening, as a hint of light still remained in the western part of the sky, and the buzz from the Common Room below was still loud.

Harry began to get up, and the figure gave a small gasp and ran down, calling to Hermione. Harry figured it was probably Ron, who Hermione had sent to come check on Harry. How much had he muttered? But before worrying about it too much, and risking setting off many more dangerous emotions, Harry rolled over and forced himself to sleep again. Whatever dreams he had after, he forgot completely.

~~~  
  
A/N: So what do you think? It is certainly not finished, so don't get any ideas. I want to see what you guys think of the plot.


	2. Chapter the Second

Disclaimer: You know I don't own Harry Potter, so do I _have _to say it? And sorry if below it sounds like Riddle's diary, but I didn't realize it until after. It's NOT dark magic so don't get ideas.

Harry awoke that day with a throat sore from his silence. He walked over to the stone gargoyle in the wall of the dormitory, watching the cold, clear water issue from its mouth. The words Sirius had spoken in his dream were haunting him. _As long as our hearts beat...__ As long as the earth spins... As long as the sun burns...  
            He would not, however, tell anyone about the dream. It was so painful, losing Sirius again. The grief was felt anew. Why did it all come back in sleep, when he worked so hard to push it away during his waking moments?  
            Occlumency would not help in this situation, as it pushed away Voldemort, and visions, and such. What Harry needed was a way to push away ordinary dreams. He sat back on his bed and pulled out a blank book. It was the journal Hermione had given him for his 16th birthday. "To let out your feelings somewhere, since you're not telling us," she had said. "Yeah, mate. You can't just hold your feelings forever," Ron had said. They were right. He couldn't have held it forever.  
  
He opened it up with his left hand while dipping a quill into an inkbottle with his right. He then began to write, and, unknown to him, another boy sat silently on the bed next to him. Ron was staring at Harry's profile, silhouetted against the moonlight coming from the window. 'He's using that journal Hermione gave him,' Ron thought. And he was glad.  
  
_I have decided to not talk to anyone. _Harry wrote. _It hurts too much. And isn't it a common saying, actions speak louder than words?__

  
Suddenly, in handwriting that was not his own, it said, _I'm__ sorry to hear that. You won't even talk to you friends?  
  
Harry started. _No. I won't talk to _anyone_. Who are you anyway?__

_That's__ beside the point. You know me in life, so you shall know me here. I share your pain and sorrow, your longing for Sirius._

_No you don't_. _Don't_ talk to me about Sirius. You may have known him, but not like I did.__

_I knew him longer. He died when the Order was saving you and you friends. It was brave, it was noble, and if he had to go, that was they way he would have wanted to._

_The Order was there because I was stupid. His blood is on my hands._

_Don't__ feel that way, Harry.  
  
I'm not going to listen to you until I know who you are._

_You will know in good time, Harry, in good time...  
  
_

Furious and slightly scared, Harry slammed the book shut.

~~A couple minutes back~~

Remus Lupin was sitting at his desk, writing up some document for the Order of the Phoenix, when the blank journal beside his arm flashed. He opened it hurriedly and stared at the words appearing slowly in Harry's handwriting: _I have decided to not talk to anyone._ _It hurts too much. And isn't it a common saying, actions speak louder than words?_

  
Remus replied: _I'm__ sorry to hear that. You won't even talk to your friends?  
Remus inwardly congratulated Hermione on thinking of this tricky spell. If Harry wouldn't talk to anyone out loud, he would eventually have to let it out somehow, she had said. A diary is perfect, she reasoned, so she gave him one for his birthday. She had charmed it with the same principal as the two-way mirror Sirius had given Harry. He could talk to someone on the other end. But it had to be someone whose handwriting he wouldn't recognize, who could give him a kindness he needed. They decided on Lupin.  
  
_You will know in good time, Harry, in good time..._ Lupin wrote. The book flashed again, symbolizing Harry had shut it. It had flashed rather brightly. "Hope he didn't slam it too hard," Lupin muttered to himself, pushing the book aside and continuing with his document._

~~To Harry again~  
  
Harry swore inwardly at the diary before tossing it onto his bedside table. In doing this, he noticed Ron looking at him. The look on Ron's face brought a lump to Harry's throat. It looked helpless, hopeless, and sad, as if he wanted to help his friend. _Don't give in_, he told himself. _You don't need anyone anymore_. The lump slowly slid away. _Oh, Ron, the other part of his brain thought. __I'm__ so sorry..._


	3. Chapter the Third

Disclaimer: You know the deal. I don't own Harry Potter. Don't we all wish we did?  
  
            Harry sadly turned over in bed so he didn't have to face Ron. He looked at the window instead, watching the sky slowly becoming lighter, until he heard a bustle around him that meant others were getting up. He turned to face the door, and he saw Ron dashing out. How long has his friend been dressed? Soon, the others left, and then Harry proceeded to get dressed himself.

He arrived in the Common Room after everyone else had gone to breakfast. He treasured the silence, and stood very still, savoring it for a moment, as he would soon encounter noise in the Great Hall, and in the corridors would hear his steps echo of the high ceilings. After a few moments of watching the sun slid across the hearthrug, Harry slid out of the portrait and wandered down the hall, ignoring the Fat Lady's comment of "A little late, aren't you my dear?"

He slid onto a seat at the end of the bench without looking to see whom he was sitting with. He didn't care.

"Hey, Harry?" said a voice. Harry looked up. Great, just his luck, to end up sitting with them. Ron was sitting next to him, Hermione across from them.

"Ron told me you're writing in the diary. You know, we're here if you ever want to talk," said Hermione.

Harry shook his head.

"Harry, what were you dreaming about?" asked Ron.

"It's his business," whispered Hermione as if Harry couldn't hear.

_What are they now, my guidance counselors?_

"Oh, right, sorry. I was just curious," Ron whispered back, in the same tone. If this was how they were going to treat him all year, then it was even worse. Harry gave them both a look full of emotions, and then ran out of the Great Hall and to the Transfiguration classroom, where they would be having their first class. He had slipped some toast and a bit of bacon into his hand unnoticed, and he ate it down quickly.

Soon, the entire class had lined up behind him. Professor McGonagall walked past them into the room, and they followed. Harry took his now usual seat in the back. He learned enough from there, and he was never called on because he 'never tried', like the students who sat up front. If they did not raise their hand, they were called on. The teachers had done that at first, but after seeing Harry was going just fine with his spells, they gave up. What was the point? When they called on him, he sat there, with the class staring at him. It was just a waste of time.

But today the normal routine was broken when McGonagall asked him to stay after class. _I won't talk anyway, Harry thought firmly. __God cares what she wants._

"Mr. Potter, you need to participate more in class."  
            Harry just looked at her sullenly.  
            "I know you get every spell right when we test you, but you must practice in class, too, so we can properly monitor your studies and prevent accidents from occurring. If you make a mistake when you're alone, no one can get help.

Harry couldn't keep silent. "I don't make mistakes," he whispered. "I do it right, don't you see? What's the problem?" his voice was no more than a whisper, he could not manage any more, as he had become rather hoarse.

"Everyone makes mistakes."

"Not me."

"Not possible."

"I practiced over the summer. Every spell in every book. I can do them all already."

"You made mistakes then,"

"Yes, but not now I don't."

McGonagall sighed. This was going nowhere.

"Fine. You may continue as you are. I see there is no changing your mind. Here is a note excusing your tardiness to your next class. Go."

Harry was now feeling a sense of dread. Note or not, he was doomed. He entered Snape's dungeon and sat down in his seat.

"Why are you late, Potter?" Snape spat.  
            Harry mutely handed him the note. He watched Snape read it with growing tension. Since he felt less for other things, he had more thought to spare worrying how his least favorite teacher were to punish him. He ignored the entire class staring the pair of them, teacher and student.  
            This time, however, Snape just nodded, handed the note back to Harry, and swept up to the front of the class. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. No punishment. Then, all too late, he realized something. He was _feeling_. These emotions, which he had sworn to erase so that he could go through life without pain, had broken loose even potions class since the start of term. He looked around and his eyes focused on a certain red head and a bushy head of brown hair. They both quickly looked away. _Great, they've noticed._  
            When class had ended, Harry ran out. A nice free period with nothing to do and then, the dreaded lunch. Lunch: where the noise was loudest, louder than morning time, when everyone was half-asleep, and nighttime, when everyone was too tired to say much. He was free to sit and sulk in silence for a nice, long time. He walked out to the edge of the lake, behind the very same bush he had cried behind in hi s fifth year after Sirius' death. Now, he could sit here, tranquil on the outside, full of rage and sorrow on the inside, screaming in pain. And alone.  
            Not long after he had zoned out, after he found himself seeing things other than the lake, the felt a hand on his shoulder. _Alone, eh?_ he thought angrily.

"Harry?" it was Hermione. Just Hermione. Where Ron was, Harry had no idea.

"What," Harry muttered, and he heard a sigh of what sounded like relief and joy from Hermione. Apparently, she was ecstatic that he had spoken.

"Just wanted to see how you are." She sat down next to him. Although he was staring into the depths of the lake, he could feel Hermione's gaze on himself.

_Maybe,_ he thought to himself, _just maybe, it would be okay to talk to her a bit._

"I dunno," he muttered, shrugging. He voice was slightly hoarse, but, as expected, a rush of emotions hit him, and the lump in his throat had wetted it slightly, returning his voice to normal. "I really miss—" Harry couldn't bring himself to say it, his felt tears sliding gently down his face.

"It's okay, Harry. He misses you too."


	4. Chapter the Fourth

Disclaimer: I'm sick of typing that word. You get it already.

_I feel all cried out_, Harry wrote in his diary.

_Why's that?_ Harry could have sworn he had seen this handwriting _somewhere before._

_I talked to Hermione. And cried a lot._

_That's good._

_No, it's not. I gave in! I wasn't strong enough to deal with my own bloody feelings! Gee, I sound like Ron,_ Harry wrote in, as an afterthought.  
  
_You did, there. However, remember this, Harry. Sometimes, you just need to share you burdens with others. You can only carry so much._

_I suppose..._

_I can just hear that song "Lean on Me" in my head._

_Don't you dare write those lyrics in._

_Shoot. You read my mind._

_Who are you?_

_You'll know soon, Harry. Soon._

_How soon is soon?_

(Remus laughed looking at Harry's words.) _You sound just like Sirius._

Harry was silent. _Just like Sirius_ echoed in his mind. Instead of closing the book, he just sat staring at it.

_Are you still there?_

_Yes._

_Are you okay?_

_I'm not sure._

_It's late, Harry. Get some sleep._

_Sure thing. 'Night._

_Good night, Harry._

Harry closed the book, gently this time, and placed it carefully on his bedside table. _Just like Sirius,_ he thought to himself, as he drifted off to sleep...

~~~

            Harry awoke the next morning feeling different. He wasn't thinking about his dreams of suicide. Instead, he was thinking of writing in the diary again.

_Anyone there?_  
  
No answer.  
  
_Still asleep, I guess. I think now I'll finally get to write this like an ordinary diary. All I have to say is last night was special. I did not dream of committing suicide so I could join Sirius again. I thought about Hermione and Ron and how they'd miss me like Lupin must miss Sirius, like Lupin must have missed my dad, because they were all best friends. How Lupin would probably miss me. That stopped me in every dream. And I think it'll stop me in real life. Well, I suppose I may talk to you this evening, so good day._

Harry shut the book and put it on his bedside table. Those words he had written had really set him thinking. He got dressed and went down to the Great Hall in a sort of trance. He was the first one there. Not long after, however, Ron came in and slid down next to him. _How many times does he lie awake watching me?_

            "How are things?"

            "I'm not really sure, Ron."

            "You're not the only one to miss him.

            "I know."

            "Lupin isn't acting like this."

            "He knew him as a friend, not as almost a father."

            "He knew him as almost a brother."

"So then which is closer?"

 "They're about the same, I guess," Ron sighed.

"Lupin is stronger than me, then. I break down too easily."

"No you don't, have you been telling yourself things like that all this time?"

"I don't really know," Harry said.

"How could you not know?"

"You've never been in this position, Ron, but it all passes as a sort of blur, and when things turn up, you can't really remember why you were so down, because the thing that had been bugging isn't exactly gone."

Ron as silent. What could he say to that comment?

"You don't have to say anything at all, Ron. I know you have no idea what it's like." Harry said this almost sadly, as if he wished with all his heart to have Ron understand.

~~~

_I'm ready to find out who you are._ Harry wrote. Remus sighed. He had picked up the diary in the morning, something told him he should look. There, Harry had written a short paragraph that had helped Lupin learn more than a direct conversation ever would.

_That was quite a mini-speech you wrote._

_I was just saying what was in my head._

_It's very sad._

_I dunno..._

_So you ready to know?_

_Just tell me, okay?___

_It's Lupin, Harry. Remus Lupin. Moony._


	5. Chapter the Fifth

Disclaimer: *silently stares at the word*

Harry stared. Lupin? He had been talking to Remus Lupin. A voice inside him said _You__ should have seen it coming..._

_Thanks for telling me, good night._

_'Night Harry._

The book flashed. Harry had closed it. Remus Lupin sat at his desk wondering what Harry's reaction had been. _It must have felt terribly strange._

~~~

Harry had been silent for four months. Now, after talking to Lupin, he had found he needed to speak, to let things out somehow. Holding it in was harder. It would have been great to talk to Sirius, if it had not been his death Harry was grieving about. Harry felt tears trickle slowly down his face, meandering around the sharp features. This time, he was not grateful to have Ron out of the dormitory. He wished he wasn't so alone.

~~~

Ron finished up his homework and handed it to Hermione to check, looking at the staircase.

            "Wish Harry would do his homework down here," Ron muttered. "He doesn't even get the benefits of sitting with you."

            Hermione gave a humorless laugh. "He's doing fine, Ron. It's just that it's the act of pushing us away, sitting up there all alone. That's why I wish he was down here."

            "Mmm."

            "Here," said Hermione, handing Ron his work. "That's good. Probably your best essay this year."

            Ron gave a sheepish grin.

            "See you in the morning, Hermione."

            "Yeah, goodnight Ron."

            Ron picked up his bag and, sliding his parchment, quills, and inkbottle into it, walked upstairs. He slowly opened the door, like he always did now, so as to see what Harry was up to. Hermione has only asked Ron to watch Harry once, but he had felt obliged to do so as often as he felt was necessary. This time, Harry was sitting by the window, a new location, and was crying, something Ron hadn't seen him do in ages, although he did recall Hermione saying something about it. Ron shut the door, wincing as it clicked rather loudly in the lock. Harry seemed not to notice. Ron dressed silently and slid into bed in the same motion as sliding his bag against the bedside table. He was so tired... that essay had been so hard to write... Ron's latest conversation with Harry echoed in his mind. He had no been surprised Harry had spoken after Hermione had said Harry was pouring out so much to her... 'He knew him as a friend, not as almost a father.' 'He knew him as almost a brother.' 'So then which is closer?' 'They're about the same, I guess.' 'Lupin is strong than me, then. I break down too easily...' _Harry, don't think that, Ron thought as he drifted to sleep. _You're stronger than anyone I know...__


	6. Chapter the Sixth

Disclaimer: I'm melting... MELTING!!! Wait... even THAT'S someone else's. Ok. The melting thing belongs to Wizard of Oz and stuff. The HP characters and stuff belong to J.K.R, and a good bit went to Warner Bros. Only my plot is mine and mine alone... I should hope.

Harry awoke slowly in the early hours of the morning, the dawn slowly filtering into the dormitory in a misty haze of dim light. He had experienced an interesting dream, the details of which were slowly slipping away like water trickling through cupped hands. All he could remember was that he had been with Sirius. He gave a dry sob. By now, he felt all cried out, all dried up, as if there was no liquid left in him to cry out.

He was not sure if he wanted to talk to Lupin anymore either. He felt slightly uncomfortable. Maybe it was because of what Ron had said. Ron _did_ have a point in saying that the four Marauders, James included of course, were like brothers, and Harry was just as close to Sirius as Remus had been, or so it seemed. So why was Harry like this? Moreover, showing Lupin? For all Harry knew, Lupin could think he was stupid for all this. Harry put his head in his hands. From his current position, speaking up, speaking out, was more difficult than holding it in.

~~~

            Ron sighed as he sat down next to Hermione at the breakfast table.  
            "What?" she asked.

            "I want to tell Harry something, but—oh I don't know—it just sounds stupid when I think about how I'm going to say it."

            "What's that?"

            Ron blushed. It sounded stupid even with Hermione. 

            "Well, see, he told me something like, Lupin's stronger then me or something, I'm weak and I just wanted to tell him it's not true and you know..." He faltered, ears glowing bright red, as they did tend to do when he was embarrassed.

            "Encourage him?" Hermione offered, smiling and stifling a laugh.

            Ron nodded.

            "Go ahead, Ron. It's what he needs."

~~~

            "Harry?"

            "What?" said Harry, looking up.

            "Look, I just wanted to say—" Ron's ears, which were slowly fading back to their normal color, began to grow red again.

            "I've been thinking on that conversation we have in the Great Hall the other day."

            "Same."

            "And... And Harry, you're not weak," Ron finished rather lamely, his face beginning to match his ears. Ron decided to say exactly what he had thought aloud. "You're one of the strongest people I've ever met, and always will be, but we all have a breaking point."

            Harry sighed, realizing most people were putting almost all their thoughts on him, and was feeling rather ashamed and slightly guilty. 

            "Thanks Ron," he said, smiling. "You're a great friend."

            Ron looked up from his shoelaces to see Harry was looking extremely ashamed.

            "Look," Harry began, but Ron stopped him.

            "Harry, you have a right to feel like that, and it's ok with us."

            "Thanks Ron," he said again.

~~~

            That night, Ron found himself leaning over a Transfiguration essay with no idea what any of the material was. When the book they had been assigned to borrow from the library was completely in Greek, it wasn't east to understand.

            Both he and Hermione were surprised when a voice spoke behind them, not because there was a voice, you got so many in the Common Room, but the speaker.

            "Mind if I join?" Harry asked.

            "No, come on, Harry," said Hermione.

            He sat down, pulled out his books, and began to pour over the homework until he had caught up to where Ron was. Then he sat down and translated the passages with his friends. These were the kinds of memories that seemed so distant and foreign, and Harry really enjoyed their company, laughing and working together just as they used to.

            "Well, time to turn in," said Ron, yawning.

            "Yes, goodnight," said Hermione, gently placing an inkbottle in her bag.

            Harry just smiled, putting his work into his bag and snapping it shut. His face was lit up and looked happy for the first time in ages.

            He rolled into bed and fell into a blissful sleep, feeling the happiest he had felt in months. _I ought to do homework with Ron and Hermione more often_, he laughed to himself, drifting into sleep.


	7. Chapter the Seventh Epilogue

Disclaimer: You get it.

     Epilogue

            Harry awoke slowly, savoring the fact that it was Saturday. Once again, Ron was not sitting up in bed, sadly inspecting Harry. By now, however, Harry was unsure whether he felt that was good or bad. It was much like at the end of fifth year, when he was along, he wanted company, and when he was with people, he strived to be in solitude.

            Harry gave a deep sigh. He did not mind that this vision was blurry, the outlines of the objects littering the bedside tables and floor of the dormitory fuzzy. He felt so warm and sleepy, the most comfortable and content he had felt in months, and he didn't want to shatter it my moving to pick up his glasses.

            The window nearest him was open, exposing a light but deep blue sky, and a slight breeze was blowing in.

_As long as our hearts beat  
As long as the earth spins  
As long as the sun burns  
Let us remain together  
Here forever  
Never to be taken away..._

            "_Never to be taken away..." Harry muttered along with the wind. "Sirius," he breathed, bitter sweetness in his whisper. As the wind moved on, Harry thought he saw Sirius's face smiling down from the clouds, and he could just imagine his laugh like a bark._

            "Harry..." Harry could have sworn that face was calling to him. "Harry... Promise me you'll never forget me, never let go... but remember the power speech holds, Harry... remember for us..." 

            "Don't worry, Sirius, mum, dad. I promise..." Harry sighed.

            And the wind moved on...

A/N: I kept thinking of the Lion King, wiring that epilogue. 'You have done well, my son,' and such. Blah, blah, blah. So, PLEASE REVIEW!!! I hope you enjoyed this fanfic, it's my favorite of mine so far. My favorite to write and my favorite to go back on.


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